


eating out makes it better

by d__T



Category: Blood Drive (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Edging, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Rough Sex, boss makes a dollar I make a dime that's why I make them fuck on company time, face fucking (briefly), science fiction food, shows up 20 years later with another damn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 20:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: Rasher decides to jerk off bc he's bored. Julian makes it into an evening of antics.





	eating out makes it better

Rasher watches Julian drive for for a while, thinking nothing in particular. Julian catches him looking, smirks, and looks away again. Time passes, scenery passes; he’s so fucking bored.

“Mind if I jerk off?”

“Don’t ruin your appetite.”

“Sure.” He trails his fingers idly over his crotch, pressing along the seams of his jeans. Soft, warm; the way his jeans keep his package compact feels nice now. He’s somewhere between a grower and a show-er, a pleasant handful but still letting his jeans do most of the work for him. He likes the way people look at him when he wears the jeans and the jacket with no shirt, the mix of attraction and confusion and horror. So much better than when he was just a skinny twink with a long dick.

He’s been idly touching and massaging through his jeans while he was lost in thought and now he wants more room than even manspreading and slouching can give him. He rocks a few times before giving up and undoing his belt and fly enough to shove them down a little.

He wiggles his cock out. It’s lengthening, heating, firm but not stiff in his hand and he sees Julian’s glance and the flick of his tongue at his lips. Rasher lets his cock hang out over his jeans, the nub ends of all the jewelry underneath like centipede legs.

He catches Julian’s glance and tongue flick again.

Rasher holds his cock up, an offering. “Don’t ruin your appetite.”

Julian checks the road and bends over lighting quick to lick the head of Rasher’s cock. Then just as quickly, he’s straightened up and is looking forward again like he hadn’t done a thing.

“Oh, fuck.” Rasher whines, sliding down even further in his seat as his dick abruptly hardens in his hand. “Fuck.”

“Yes darling?” Julian asks sweetly.

“Shut up and drive.” Rasher grits out.

Julian laughs.

Rasher strokes around the root of his dick, feeling the transitions of his body; flesh and bone and sex. He presses his fingers in a triangle around the root, pressing back with his hands and forwards with his hips to make tiny thrusts into empty air. He goes like that until his dick is throbbing, until he’s mindless with arousal, until he’s desperate for a solid real touch.

Julian says, casually, “Halt.”

Rasher exhales, frustrated and hauling himself out of the stupid arousal hand over fist, and pushes himself back into a more normal sitting position.

Julian pats his thigh in false apology.

“You’re not supposed to be involved in this.”

Julian squeezes his thigh this time with a strong grip that’s nowhere near where he wants it. Rasher wiggles a little, trying to make it something and instead his dick bumps against his belly and he grunts.

“Continue.”

“I don’t need your permission.” Rasher wraps his fingers around down low and slides back down to rock into his tight grip.

“And yet.” Julian snickers.

Rasher doesn’t dignify that with any response. He’s filled out the width of his piercings now; he can move his hand smoothly over the bars. A light grip now, still teasing, the webbing of his thumbs popping over the nubs as he strokes.

He’s not touching the glans, he’s still got the tight feeling of Julian’s saliva drying on his skin. It itches almost, infuriatingly unscratchable; he won’t let himself touch it. He’s got time to kill. The only ease to the sensation is his own wet collecting inside the curve of the p.a. ring.

He’s fucking through his hand again, cockhead straining into the air beyond his fingers when Julian cuts into him again. “Halt.”

He freezes, pressing his hands to his thighs. He can feel his every heartbeat. “Damnit Julian.”

Julian laughs at him.

Rasher arches backwards, trapping his arms against the roof of the car and stretching until his shoulders pop. “Guh.”

He resettles his body by leaning forward to the other extreme, as far forward as he can before his head hits the dashboard. His dick skids along the coarse skin of his belly before pressing just a little bit between the lips of his maw. He doesn’t do this much- the first time it had happened, his brain screamed at him so loudly he almost blacked out but now he can flirt with the idea.

Time to fucking flirt.

He shoves one arm between his head and the dash so that he can lean more easily. His dick almost naturally slides against the lips, each breath moves him a little and the feeling sparkles in his cock and his maw. It’s all shiny sharp edges of a feeling and he thinks he could go further with it in a few moments.

Julian interrupts him by reaching over and blindly grabbing at his dick, stroking it twice up into his maw before leaving him bereft again. Rasher whines, raspy and reedy. “How much longer? I wanna come.”

“You either come like that or you wait until we’re at the hotel.”

Julian is gonna try something on him at the hotel and he doesn’t want to wait for however long Julian is gonna string him along there for. Rasher whines and tries to push against his maw more effectively but the position is only letting him have the slightest of movements when he wants the big motions in his hips, or if he must, his arm. It’s not enough, it’s infuriating.

“I can’t.”

“That’s a pity.”

Rasher uncurls and returns to using his hands. He knows he can hold out and follow Julian’s instructions, he just doesn’t  _want_ to. He lets his hand speed up slowly, trying to get to where he can come into his cupped palm before Julian catches onto what he’s doing.

“Halt.”

Rasher growls and flops back. Luck isn’t with him, but at least Julian seems amused by the attempt.

Julian pats him across the ribs. “Not long now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard for this.”

“You’re gonna come the moment you try to put it in me.” Julian swings the car through a corner.

“Maybe I wanna stuff you full of cum and leave you desperate.”

Julian makes a contemplative sound. “You wanna put that away for a couple minutes?”

“No.” Rasher groans. He grudgingly tugs his jeans back up and bends his dick to the side so that he can zip them up. It’s making an obscene bar across the fold of his hip and even buckling his belt a little loose isn’t gonna cover for it.

Julian’s parked in a gravel lot. There’s a rowbuilding, a motel. “Get our bags and follow me.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t come.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Julian smirks. “Good boy.”

“That’s no fair.” Rasher unfolds himself out of the car, standing with a groan. And then a moan as he adjusts his dick. Still hard, still obvious.

He gets their bags and follows Julian. A backpack and a duffel and he knows Julian is doing this to make sure that he’s got something other than his dick in his hands, to expose and humiliate him. He stands behind Julian as Julian gets their keys from the office window as obedient and as hidden as he can be.

Julian leads him to their room- he didn’t hear the number, he’s only got one thing on his mind and that’s holding himself together- and every step up the stairs to the second level feels like he gonna come in his jeans, just spurt right through the fabric. Julian unlocks the door and ushers him in.

Rasher immediately drops their bags on the table and rounds on Julian who is still fussing with the lock chain. He yanks him back, grinding his boner on Julian’s ass. “This isn’t for you. I’m gonna fuck your face and come down your throat.”

Julian squeaks, abrupt and undignified as he recalibrates his schemes.

Rasher flips him around. Julian looks up at him, lips parted, the fake bruising on his lips vivid and delicate. Rasher kisses him. “You really thought you were gonna string me along a little longer, huh? That’s sweet of you.”

And then he shoves Julian down to his knees, holding him down as he gets his cock out with his other hand. “Look at this, all ready to go.”

Julian snorts and then Rasher’s stuffed his cock all the way into Julian’s mouth. Back into his throat, he can feel Julian struggling to adjust. He doesn’t care; he knows that Julian will figure it out. He pushes, pressing Julian’s head back against the door, pressing his nose flat. Julian chokes a little, tears forming, desperately uselessly swallowing and Rasher stays there balls deep with heartbeat thrusts tying him to the suspense just a little longer.

Then he pulls out and Julian gasps in a big rush and he jams back in and bursts down his throat. Hot and thick and the rush nearly knocks him out.

Julian pushes him out and away; he would have happily choked Julian until he recovered enough to pull out by himself. So he leans over Julian for a moment as Julian pants, absently sliding his dick against Julian’s cheek and ruining his makeup.

And his dick isn’t getting soft. He grabs it and smears the tip over Julian’s lips. “Tonight’s your lucky night.”

Julian bares his teeth. “We have reservations.”

Ah, that’s what Julian’s plan was. Pity he’s going to be on the receiving end of it now. Rasher growls, “Better take care of this, then. Get on the bed, ass up.”

“Charming.” Julian says, undoing his trousers as he goes.

Rasher catches him before he’s managed to get his boots off. Julian rolls over easily under his push. Rasher rubs lube at Julian’s hole, a perfunctory preparation, and then at his own cock. He’s hard, almost painfully so like the thickness from coming the first time stayed with him. Julian might have been right the first time, but this time all bets are off. He’s fine with that; he presses into Julian. Julian is tight and the relief is immediate and overwhelming and he’s babbling, “I need you I need you You feel so good You’re so good to me.”

Julian’s scrabbling underneath him, half trying to keep Rasher from skidding him with his thrusts and half trying to thrust back and get that perfect angle to get them both off.

When Julian squirms like this, he misses his extra arms. He doesn’t control his transformations, but it’s  _nice_ to be able to cage Julian without squashing him. Julian grunts when Rasher pins him by one shoulder and the lower back but can’t shake his hands off. Julian is making overwhelmed sounds and he’s hit overstimulation, this is burning him, he wants it done now, he wants more than he can deliver on. He gets it buried balls deep in Julian. It yanks him to a halt and when it releases him, he thrusts one more time experimentally and the feeling makes him shake.

It’s enough, goddamn finally, he can feel his dick softening even as he pulls out.

Julian mewls, flopped over on his side and gingerly touching at his hole with a finger. “Holy fuck, Rasher.”

Rasher stares blankly up at the ceiling, thinking the same thing as he gets his breath back. “You okay?”

Julian makes a smug sound. “I’m fucking _fantastic_. You have no idea how wet I am.”

Rasher grins. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it.”

He looks over at Julian and Julian is gazing at him with fondness and raw hunger. It's intimidating. 

"You're a monster." 

Rasher breathes out, _ no shit_ . 

After a moment, Julian lazily commands, “Let’s get cleaned up and go.” 

He watches as Julian wriggles his way to his feet like he's recalibrating his body. He's thinking of doing the same when Julian flinches into stillness before snapping his fingers at him. He draws Rasher's attention to the cum sliding down his leg with a gesture. 

Rasher staggers to his feet and kneels down between Julian's legs to clean him up with his tongue. It's objectively gross and yet the surge of affection he feels when Julian pets his hair and calls him a good boy completes this for him.

Then they finish straightening up their clothing- Julian tells him to put a shirt on because it's a nice place that they’re going to- and he notices at the last moment that Julian's makeup is smeared. 

It's endearing that Julian somehow forgot about the bit where Rasher fucked the side of his face. He holds Julian while he fixes his face, making himself inconvenient with neck kisses and hugs.

The last step is for Julian to cut the center of his lower lip and smear the blood. Rasher likes to watch Julian work, the flick of the tiny knife he uses, and then taste the blood for himself. Hot and delicate and the heat of Julian's rapid healing making the wound inconsequential. Julian gasps, a tiny desperate sound.

Rasher runs his hands down over Julian's chest, ostensibly straightening his clothing and aligning his jewelry but actually making Julian's eyes flutter closed as he leans in close. "You'll make it all the way through dinner."

Julian breathes,  _oh_ .

"Just like I made it all the way here."

"Oh, you _bastard_." Julian responds with feeling. "There are strange delicacies awaiting us, let us go before I roll you."

Rasher feels the tiredness in his hips and thighs and balls and knows a reprieve when he's given one. He steps backwards toward the door, tugging Julian with him. "Let's go!"

He keeps his hand on Julian’s thigh while Julian drives, and before they go in, Julian tugs the tuft of his beard in lieu of a kiss. Julian says “Be good.”

Rasher grins. “You know I will.”

“Still bored?” Julian asks while they’re waiting for their food.

Rasher knows this is Julian giving him an opportunity to stop the game that he started. He probably should; he’s operating beyond his body’s capacity to respond to sex in expected ways. But Julian is still deep into it; fucked twice and came nonce, he can see it in the way Julian is sitting, the way he shifts minutely, he can smell it too. If they were sitting next to each other, he could slide his hand into Julian’s pants and rub him off under the table, nobody the wiser except for the little gasp at the end.

But they’re here on business, nominally, so they have to put lip service to decorum. There’s still plenty of room for him to pull Julian’s strings without relying on his dick- and he loves that thrill to yank back. It’s not retaliation if it’s expected.

Julian had called the waitress  _sweetheart_ in his honey voice and she’d immediately soured on him and is now avoiding them except for the minimum of her required duties. Her disgust and ensuing avoidance is a gift to him from Julian’s greed.

It’s ideal, so he replies, “Sometimes.”

Julian reaches out across the table to him and Rasher meets his hands halfway in a gentle grasp- thumbs on the backs of his hands and fingers curled under his palms. Julian smiles at him like he’s not trying to project pornographic images directly into Rasher’s head and it’s just too touching of a moment so Rasher wiggles a finger up between the heel of Julian’s palm and the cuff of his shirt until Julian’s expression quirks.

Julian says something about the decor and then they’re off and rolling with cover chatter while Rasher slowly massages the inside of Julian’s wrist. He’s finding blood vessels by touch and pressing them flat between Julian’s tendons and Julian is occasionally wiggling his fingers when Rasher finds a really good combination.

“Excuse me, sirs.” The waitress is back with their plates balanced on her am. Rasher has always found that skill to be a marvel. They make room for the plates and she sets them down and zooms away before Julian can say anything to annoy her more.

Rasher has received a heavily engineered designer vegetable: a greenish pod a bit smaller than his two fists together. It is on a flat rock, accompanied by a long spoon and a hammer, and is slightly steaming. He likes to order weird shit when it’s on Heart’s corporate dime.

Julian, on the other hand, has gotten the closest thing to fast food that he could find- a baked fish with fried potatoes.

The designer vegetable has three obvious seams in it. None of them cave when he prods at them with his fingers. The shell is fibrous though, so the hammer doesn’t make sense. He pulls out his belt knife and scores the weakest looking seam lengthwise and crosswise.

Julian is watching him with amusement. “Do you want help?”

“Hold on.” Rasher warns him, raising the vegetable up.

Julian rescues his drink. “Cheers.”

Rasher smashes it down like a rock into a skull and the spot he’d scored crushes right in. He attacks it with the knife again, tearing pieces out like a rodent breaking into a bird’s egg. Finally, a hole big enough for the spoon opens up. “Fucking finally, the damn thing ought to come with a pull tab.”

Rasher picks up the spoon that came with it and jams it in through the hole he’s made. The chunk he scoops out looks somewhat gelatinous if jello was a meat that grew in a melon and the seeds were cubed potatoes.

Rasher puts it in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “That’s horrid. You should try it, you’ll probably love it.”

Julian takes the proffered spoon and the shell of the vegetable into his palm and scoops out a spoonful. “Yeah, no, this has nothing on the finest jello salads of my day. To start, it should be chilled-”

Rasher gives him a _very_ suspicious look and plucks the vegetable back out of his hand. “Sometimes I can’t tell when you’re fucking with me.”

“Well,” Julian begins as Rasher scoops out a second piece and eats it just to verify that it’s as terrible as he remembers, “household refrigeration technology was new at the time and everyone kinda went crazy with it. Really those innovations should be celebrated.”

“That was _disgusting_ and I can’t believe I voluntarily put my dick in someone who thinks that jello salads should be _celebrated_.” Rasher leans back, rucking up the belly of his shirt to hand the vegetable off into his maw before collecting all of the remaining shell pieces and passing those in too. Rasher pats his maw after it closes back up. “There’s your tribute for the day.”

“That?” Julian waves a french fry at him before pushing the plate over to share the remainder, “Is probably why I’m such a terrible person.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re terrible all on your own.”

Julian laughs.

Rasher leans back, stretching casually, and Julian goes on high alert. No one else would see it, but Rasher is watching for it; calculated stimulus and awaited reaction. 

He swings one leg up onto Julian's seat before he collapses forward out of the stretch. His boot nudges in between Julian's legs and Julian lets him in hesitantly at first and then confidently as Rasher gently forces his boot up against Julian's crotch. 

He smirks, Julian shows him a little moue of shock and outrage even as he shifts to press more effectively against the sole of Rasher's boot. 

The waitress appears, a timely interruption. “Dessert?”

Julian looks directly at Rasher, “You ruined my appetite.”

The waitress hides her reaction to the apparent animosity in Julian’s tone.

Unperturbed, Rasher smiles at the waitress. “Just the bill, please.”

“Of course. I’ll just-” She falters when she notices that the designer vegetable is completely gone, even the inedible pieces, but recovers admirably. “-take your plates then.”

“Please do.” Julian agrees pleasantly. 

She gathers up the plates and trots away.

Rasher watches her go, gauging the distance of gossip before pressing his foot more firmly against Julian.

Julian inhales slightly.

Rasher idly taps his fingers and toes, bopping out a little rhythm to himself. One beat lands on Julian- sometimes. Julian watches his hands, trying to figure out the pattern.

The waitress returns, dithers momentarily, and then hands the bill to Julian. He immediately snaps the dull glitter of the corporate card down on top of it and hands it back to her before she can escape and lengthen the proceedings.

After she leaves again, Julian leans towards Rasher and only a flicker of the pressure on him crosses his face. “They’re wondering what the hell you did with that vegetable.”

Rasher smirks and goes back to tapping to himself. “I love a mystery.”

Julian frowns at him. Rasher gives him a deliberately pleasant look.

The waitress returns, clearly eager to be rid of them. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

Julian turns the soulless smile of a corporate droid on her, “Oh, we absolutely will.” as he tucks the card back inside his jacket.

Rasher takes his foot back from between Julian’s legs so that he can stand. "Shall we?" 

“We shall.”

Rasher is content to follow Julian outside, let him lead this for a moment.

Outside and away from the dim light of the doors, Julian tugs the tuft of his beard again, harder than the first time. Trails his cold fingers under his chin and down his throat to the band of his collar. He can feel his own heat, an artificial manipulation by Julian. Rasher exhales something like a command, “Wait.”

Julian withdraws his hand in a flick, pressing the car key into his palm instead. “Then drive, before my patience is exhausted.”

Rasher pushes Julian’s hat back, kisses his forehead, pushes his hat back into place. “Of course, dear.”

Julian shifts rapidly between frustration, affection, and amusement. “Get in the car.”

Julian was behaved. He’d snuck a hand down between his legs to press against and Rasher had pretended not to notice for a while. And then he’d reached over and nudged Julian’s hand away from its crimes. Not even out from between his legs, just so he couldn’t press on it, leaving him with a terrible useless gap. Julian’s whine about it is a gratifying delight.

Julian  _was_ behaved. Rasher was going to drag Julian to their room, but he realizes that he doesn’t know the room number and he’s praying that Julian has enough marbles left in his head to remember and tell him when he asks.

Julian responds by dragging  _him_ , one finger through a belt loop, but he makes Rasher key open the door. As soon as he’s through, Julian is pressing on him; conformal, tight, greedy.

Rasher thinks to himself  _thank fuck for automatic locks_ and lets Julian knock him down to the bed. He tries to roll face up but Julian isn’t letting him, hands on his hips and shoulders, pinning him as Julian jams his crotch up against Rasher’s ass.

Julian growls at him, a warning to stop squirming. He shivers; it’s fun to make Julian act the monster. Julian shifts, inadvertently letting Rasher twist to look up at him, the harsh bend enabled by his fucked up anatomy. Julian’s looking down at him, dark and greedy. Then he smirks, “Fuck this, get naked.”

They scramble apart and Rasher finishes first, his tastes tending towards minimalism instead of Julian’s excess. So he helps as much as hinders to finish getting Julian naked.

Julian pushes him back immediately, tucking the slick bump of his pelvis in above Rasher’s soft dick. “Do you think you’ll get it up again?”

“I’d have to be a freak of nature-” He begins deadpan and Julian interrupts him with a laugh, “Shut the _fuck_ up.”

“If you wanna ride me, I could use one of your dicks.” Rasher offers as he grabs Julian’s ass. “I bet you’re still loose from earlier.”

Julian moans dramatically, wiggling into his grasp. “I’m gonna fuck your hole and then I’m gonna fuck your ass.”

“Gonna match me shot for shot?” Rasher teases because it’s usually him that can’t keep up with Julian and this time they might just be even.

“You didn’t wear me out that much.” Julian grins.

“I’ll have to try harder next time.” He faux promises.

Julian rocks against him a little before sitting back across his hips. “Which dick do you want?”

“Yours,” Rasher says to be cute. “Don’t challenge me.”

Julian nods and goes to get his own strap for once. Rasher watches him, admiring, considering that Julian might milk one more out of him if he doesn’t think about it at all. And then Julian’s back, kneeling beside him. He rolls and pushes Julian’s hips down a little before slurping Julian’s strap into his mouth. It’s cool, neutrally so as it slides across his tongue and between his lips.

Julian sighs and holds his head, thick fingers tangling his hair, thumb idly rubbing the stubble above his ear.

Julian lets him take his time warming it until he gets to the bitter heat of Julian’s dick. Then Julian reaches down his body to grab his ass. Rasher obligingly shifts so that he can continue eating Julian out while Julian massages his hole.

“Enough.” Julian grunts, pushing Rasher off of him.

Rasher wiggles like a flipped over beetle and innocently blinks up at him. “Already?”

Julian huffs. “Roll over.”

He does, but he curls enough to watch Julian lube up his strap. Clear streaked with black from his fingers, sleek and shiny. He flattens out when Julian lines up and starts pressing in. Making room in his mind and body. Without much of his own heat, it’s cool and intrusive, not objectionable because he knows this and likes this. He knows what he’s doing, he wants to provide for Julian  _personally_ when so often it’s flipped.

Julian sinks into him with a sigh, all the way until his hips meet his ass and he can drape himself hot and heavy over Rasher’s back. It’s awkward, the stiff length inside him not doing much for him but when Julian says, “You’re such a good boy for me,” rough and delighted and possessive into his ear, none of the discomforts matter. 

“Fuck me,” he nearly begs.

Julian peels himself up and does so, long smooth strokes to loosen him, and then harder ones for Julian’s entertainment when Rasher can take them. Julian is being so careful with him, only some of Rasher’s aggression from early reflected back at him. He wants to push Julian to pour it back into him but when he opens his mouth to say he can take it, his tongue is dry from panting and his body is sparking haphazardly. He can’t hold onto the flickering arousal, especially as Julian pulls him up doggy style and pulls his hips to manipulate him like a toy to get off with but it never leaves him, either.

Julian’s ring deep in him now, grinding those short motions that are less about fucking Rasher and more about getting himself off. Rasher pushes back erratically, trying to trip up Julian’s rhythm and make him come. Julian holds him down instead but it doesn’t work. Julian comes and Rasher can just see him arching back. 

Julian comes with a harsh grunt and then still pinned together, pulls him down to lay on their sides. He thrusts lazily a few more times before stopping to lay there and pant happily.

Rasher wiggles himself free and rolls over to lay on Julian’s side, face tucked in against his neck as Julian casually rubs circles into his back.

“You good?”

“I’m aroused but my body isn’t. It’s really weird.”

“Huh.” Julian slithers out of his harness and sets the tangle aside. “Where you at?”

He kisses Rasher, and Rasher loses himself for a moment until Julian retakes his place underneath Rasher. He snakes a hand down to press against Julian’s dick and Julian makes a rough sound. “I want to please you.”

Julian cups the back of his head, pressing his face against his chest. “You do.”

Rasher glows internally, grinning so that Julian can feel his response before licking him.

Julian presses his hand over Rasher’s, changing the way he’s rubbing, rocking with increasing greed.

Julian shifts them, rolling Rasher onto his back to straddle his thigh. Head tucked in against Rasher’s shoulder, breath hot across his chest, self created desperation. Rasher holds him in arms and tentacles and whispers terrible things to him until Julian releases tension all over him.

“You get what you wanted?”

“Always.”

Julian curls up half on him, heedless of the slime he’s leaving to dry on Rasher’s hip. Later it will terrible and itchy, but for now Julian is heavy and warm and sleepy in his arms, all of their edges smoothed and irrelevant. Peaceful.


End file.
